The Next Generation, the Diary of Severus Snape
by rachelthebooklover
Summary: this is the first harry potter book from snapes POV.  he recives an assingment from dumbledore and then, well you know what happens next...please r&r!
1. prolouge

DISCLAIMER: i don't own any characters you recognize, im just borrowing them, and promise to play nicely with them, and not damage them in any way. )

A/N: this is dedicated to mummy, who suggested it, and dina, who bullied it out of me. Love you both!!

The next generation.

The diary of Severus Snape.

prologue

Even now, even after he has been dead for more than eleven years, he haunts me. Of course, it's not really him that I clapped eyes on only moments ago, but a living image of him. Hair all a mess, black, short, skinny, miserable excuse for a boy, glasses, but I'm getting ahead of myself.


	2. the sighting

DISCLAIMER: I don't own any characters you recognize, I'm just borrowing them, and promise to play nicely with them, and not damage them in any way. ) really, I promise ;)

A/N: Sorry for any spelling and grammer issues, my beta is going to camp soon, and I wont have her then, and as for this, I was in a hurry to get it up so that my beta didn't knock me off her favs list!!! Any way here you go!

Chapter one

The sighting

Diary,

My name is Severus Snape. I am the potions master at Hogwarts School of witchcraft and wizardry, and I have been forced to write in this foolish little book. Dumbledore says it will be good for me. No matter. I shall do it anyway, for the sake of humoring him. I digress. We are preparing for the arrival of the students for the new school year. I hope that the young Malfoy heir will be as intelligent as his father claims, though I have few doubts in my mind that he shall be anything but brilliant. And of course the potter boy will join us at last. I wonder what he will be like, horrid and arrogant like his father perhaps. In any case, that is all the news I have for the day.

S.S.

Diary,

Even now, even after he has been dead for more than eleven years, he haunts me. Of course, it's not really him that I clapped eyes on only moments ago at the start of year feast, but a living image of him. Hair all a mess, black, short, skinny, miserable excuse of a human being, oh, that I could go up to the newly made Gryffindor, the Potter boy, and tell him what his father really was, a horrible bullying git! But no, I shall do no such thing; however, I am not going to do anything to help the precious Harry Potter through his school year. Oh no.

Other news, if Potter can be considered news. In any case, I am beginning to think that I will die of shame. Really, that fool Quirrell getting the job instead of me is beyond insulting. I don't know what Dumbledore was thinking, but my only conclusion was that he wasn't. If not for him, I would have nothing, and because of that I am forced to respect him. But for Slytherin's sake! Quirrell is a foolish stuttering dunderhead. Well time will tell. Perhaps I'll be able to get rid of the idiot soon. Who knows. Who knows.

S.S.

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A/N2: sorry about how short these are, I just want to do quick, short updates, very frequently. Besides, I need reviews before I post too much more ). Anyway, hope you are enjoying!! R&r!!!!!


	3. first lesson

DISCLAIMER: I am not rich, famous, or a talented well published author. Sucks for me. (I'm not JK Rowling either!)

DISCLAIMER2: pardon all spelling grammar etc mistakes. I have no natural spelling ability, and that tends to rear its ugly head rather a lot! )

Chapter two

First lesson

Diary,

I had the combined Slytherin and Gryffindor class today, for the first time this year. These are my observations. Young Draco Malfoy is everything I had hoped, Intelligent, well bred, and capable. He will go far at this school, that much is clear. There are several others in my house I think will do well. Vincent Crabbe and Gregory Gloyle however shall surely drive me insane. They are two of the stupidest people on this earth, other than their fathers. I hated those men when I worked with them, brutish, stupid, and menial. But no matter. Their sons will make fine…friends…for Draco.

There were other students who made an impression on me. One of them, a foolish little know-it-all, Hermione Granger is a muggle born, and a Gryffindor. While I never agreed with lord Voldemort about muggle borns being inferior, I do find this one completely insufferable. In any case, she was not the only one. There is one Gryffindor that I think may be the thickest student I have ever met Norbert, or Ned, or something. And to think his parents were Frank and Alice Longbottom. There is also a new Weasley, Ronald I believe, rather underfed looking, hanging on Potter's every word like he was some kind of profit.

And then there was Potter himself. I was making my introductory speech, one I'm rather fond of, the one about bottling fame, and brewing glory, the one I use in tribute to my uncle, who saw to it that I became potions master at Hogwarts, and there is Potter, scribbling a note, just ignoring me completely. Such disrespect is unacceptable, and I had to punish him at once, of course. But I sincerely doubt that this boy is all he's cracked up to be. I mean really, how stupid do you have to be to be friends with a Weasley?

In any regard, I had a rather interesting first day of lessons. My first class of seventh years, Slytherins and Ravenclaws, is quite talented. But I see little promise in most of the other classes. Ah well. And I spotted that dunderhead Quirrell lurking around the third floor corridor. He has no business there. He knows what is below, as do I, but we are to have nothing to do with it now that it is properly hidden. I sent him on his way, and am beginning to wonder what is in that turban of his. It smells disgusting, and as I watched him scurry away, I could have sworn I felt my arm prickle. That can mean only one thing. But no, it is impossible that Quirrell could be lord Voldemort, I must have been imagining things. That is all the news for today. 

S.S.


	4. halloween

DISCLAIMER: I don't own them. You are all well aware of that.

A/N: so here it is!! An update. However, there will be no more of these if I don't get five reviews. Yes dina and meena, you count, im not evil like someone I know!!

In any case, no reviewy no updaty. I just gave you this because im a kind sweet loving person, and im nearly fainting with joy because there is a new Georgia nicolson book. Love is most deffinatly a many trousered thing.

Ps. Im hoping to make this the longest update yet. Wish me luck

Pps. Im sorry that I chose to write a fic about such a nasty man. Oh well, just don't judge him too much, and don't think I don't love hagrid with all my heart, im just trying to use an authentic voice.

Chapter three

Halloween

Diary,

Term is speeding along. The seventh year class is quite intelligent, several of them even brewed truth potion successfully yesterday, I am quite pleased. There are however very few such students in my first year classes. The Longbottom boy is a complete disgrace. I really don't see the point in coming to Wizarding School if you are practically a squib! Honestly. However, there are some other students who are not as foolish as I thought. Potter is not half bad, though I hate to admit it. Weasly also is a decent student, but I get the sense that the two of them are really little more than the dunderheads I first thought them.

Quirrell has gotten even jumpier since the news of the break in at Gringotts. I wonder why. We all know that the stone is safe; we helped to protect it, for Slytherin's sake! In any case, I have resolved to keep a closer eye on him as Halloween approaches.

That is all the news for now,

S.S.

Diary,

Today my suspicions were confirmed. Quirrell let a troll into the dungeons of the castle as a distraction, and went to try to steal the stone. Only he could have let in a troll so large. He has a strange affinity with them, the one he put into the guarding of the stone was the largest I have ever seen, and the largest I ever hope to see.

It happened like this. We had all gathered in the great hall for the Halloween feast, when Quirrell came galloping in yelling about a troll in the dungeons, then he fainted. Well off course the students were sent quickly off to their common rooms, and we teachers headed to the dungeons to fend off the troll. However I noticed something rather strange. Quirrell, who had been revived by Poppy, hurried off in the wrong direction. Instead of going to the dungeons as Dumbledore requested, he was scurrying off in the opposite direction, right to the third floor corridor. He obviously didn't know that I had seen him, and I quickly debated the merits of forgetting that I had seen him at all. However, I chose to follow him and make sure he didn't get into anything that wasn't his business. I hurried out of the great hall, and followed Quirrell to the entrance to the third floor corridor. By the time I got there, the door was already open, and I could hear the dog growling ferociously. I ran through the open door and straight into Quirrell's back. The force of the impact was enough to knock Quirrell over, and I took the opportunity to turn around and drag him out of the chamber. Unfortunately the dog took the same opportunity to bit me on the leg. Hard. And all the time Quirrell was flailing about, trying to get me off him. The combined injury will surely have me limping for weeks. But no matter, I was successful in stopping that little fool from getting past the dog, but from the looks of my leg, the dog didn't really need my help. Perhaps that oversized oaf Hagrid is good for something after all. The dog is certainly going to be a good guard for the stone. In any case, I grabbed Quirrell, and ran to the dungeons, but on the way by the girl's bathroom, I heard a great deal of noise. Potter, Weasley, and the insufferable Granger had been discovered only moments after facing a full grown mountain troll, and living to tell the tale.

Evidently Granger is as foolish as I had suspected. She told us how she sought out the troll, thinking that she could kill it on her own. However, Potter and Weasley, being great, honorable gentlemen saw that she wasn't with the group of first years returning to Gryffindor tower, and went to look for her. Somehow they were able to take down the troll; I believe that Potter stuck his wand up its nose. How very commendable.

My leg has begun to throb terribly, and I think that I will end up having to limp for the next few days. I think that I shall keep my information to myself for the time being. No need to bother Dumbledore when I have everything in control.

Until next time,

S.S.

A/N: it always bothered me that snape didn't tell Dumbledore what he knew. Oh well. One of the traits of snapes personality that I am trying to play up is his loyalty to Dumbledore, and the whole not telling him about Quirrell trying to break in thing isn't helping me. No matter. OMG, I'm turning into Severus snape!!


	5. musing and mixing

DISCLAIMER: only the plot or lack therof, and snape's thoughts are mine all mine.

A/N1: thank you to Hermione Solo, and gleefulgardengnome for the reviews and suggestions! Im posting against my better judgment, but ah well. If you are reading this, and not reviewing, review!!!! I want to know that you are reading it!!! Also, sorry about the length of the updates, I really do try. It's quite difficult however to come up with something to write. Btw, I figured out how to insert page breaks!!!!!

Diary,

Bloody Weasley twins! They've bewitched me so confetti falls on my head and shoulders in a constant stream. It is probably the most irritating thing since last year when they figured out how to get past the one eyed witch into Hogsmeade.

Those two boys alone are enough to put one off Weasleys forever, let alone the memories of the older boys, that are just fading. I really don't understand how they manage to remain in this school. Surely something they have done over the years merits expulsion. They have had more detentions in their years at this school than the entire house of Slytherin put together in the same amount of time. Ridiculous really.

I have great hopes for my seventh year class, I need to plan out some new lessons, as they have far exceeded my expectations, and the plans I had made originally are far too easy. Several of the students have even begun to create their own potions, for example, Delia Lightwood is working on a new version of the draining draught, which will please Poppy to no end.

I hope that soon I shall be able to get some of the ingredients that I requested from the greenhouses, and, when I have them, I will be able to begin a few experiments of my own.

For example I want to begin revising a few of the potions I created last year, for example the one to keep someone awake for long periods of time, without sleep. I have yet to work out a few of the kinks, for example a tendency to giggle sporadically every few minutes. I really do need to fix that. Also, there is a slight risk of dependency, and I fear there is little I will be able to do about it. I'm also working on a sleeping potion, as I have been having trouble sleeping recently. The mark has been bothering me, and I can think of no possible reason. Other than the obvious. But I try not to dwell on unpleasant impossibilities.

Just the other day I found myself dwelling on what his arrogant cowardly father used to do, with the help of Sirius Black, naturally. There was no way either of them would go up against me on their own. Honestly, why Potter even bothered going after me down that tunnel is beyond me. I mean, Black obviously wanted me dead; why not just let him get his way. Those boys were some of the worst things that ever happened to me, and now here's a new Potter, and he is just as miserable, just as hateful, and just as full of himself as his father before him.

But I do try not to think of things like that for they do little to help with the living of a life. And that is just what I intend to do, live my life.

S.S.

Diary,

My ingredients were ready this morning, and after bringing them here, to my office, I began work on my new experiments. Poppy has requested that I make some improvements to the current working recipe for the reviving potion. I think that if I do some research, I should be able to have the potion up to snuff in no time. Poppy had mentioned a ridiculously long period in which one must wait with baited breath for the patient to wake. I ought to be able to make the potion take affect instantly, all I need to do is add some lacewing flies, and stir it a few times counter clockwise, before adding the powdered essence of poppy seeds. In any case, I am off to get started. It's strange but I'm beginning to like this diary concept. It's rather nice to have someone to talk to, even if they are made of parchment and ink.

S.S.

A/N2: aren't you proud of me?? Now I expect more than two reviews this time, and im sorry its so short, and unbetaed, I was under pressure!


	6. memories

**A/N: omg the last Harry potter book was amazing!!!!!! I am sorrier than I can say about the delay in posting, I was reading Harry potter, then I went away, then I had to work, so here it is, finally. Congrats to FireEyedStranger for the fic, it ROX!!!!!!!!!! (You should all go read it, its called spotlight)**

**Also, this story is going to change just a bit, with the new revelations about snape from deathly hallows, I'm going to have to rework it just a touch ) (hey does anyone remember Professor sprouts name??) **

**Thanks for the beta mum!**

**DISCLAIMER: still don't own it. sob sob **

Memories 

Diary,

I feel that I should really write something about my daily activities, because there are not always interesting, or bizarre things going on, and if I am to complete this properly, I should really be writing something every day.

Today, I awakened around six o'clock, and dressed. Then, I made my way from my bed room, to my sitting area, and read until seven. At seven I made my way up to the great hall for breakfast. I took my place at the staff table, between professors Vector and Flitwick. I really dislike breakfast in general, however I make a point of trying to eat something in the morning, and generally take some extra food with me, to eat in the break between classes, before lunch time. I also prefer to eat lunch alone in my office, instead of joining the whole school in the dinning hall. I have never really gotten along with the other teachers very well, although I do enjoy spending time with Poppy, Professor Sprout, and Madam Pince. I also love to spend my free time in the library's back room reading. From the time I was a small child I felt more at home with books than I did with children my age. Not that I knew many children my age. I hated the way they laughed at me, even when they hardly knew me. Only one child ever gave me a chance. But I ruined that as well. On that note, I have decided that I will build on the idea Dumbledore gave me, and not only record my daily activities, but also the story of my past. I shall record it all here in this diary. However, I shall save that portion of the story for later, after dinner.

Well, on with the account of my day. This morning I ate several pieces of toast with marmalade, and drank some pumpkin juice. I was talking to Flitwick about the progress of the sixth years, and he said he had seen some amazing charm work. I expressed my agreement, and, seeing that I was going to be late for my first block class I grabbed some more toast, as well as some bacon, and a mug of pumpkin flavored coffee that I had added my peppy potion to and left the hall. The peppyup potion (it's a despicable name, I blame Poppy for that) is finally finished. Poppy insisted on the name saying it would go better with her pepperup potion, and she could make them a set. Silly really, but at least I was able to sort out the giggling.

When I reached my office in the dungeons, I grabbed my lesson plans and hurried to the classroom for the first block. All the classes ran fairly smoothly, with the notable exception of a badly brewed accelerant potion, which exploded rather spectacularly all over the classroom, causing everyone it hit to speak at otherwise impossible speeds until they had been given the antidote. Luckily for the stupid little twit none of it got on me or I would have had to kill him. Instead, I merely gave him a month of detentions.

The day went so smoothly that I even had a chance to work on a few of my experiments; they seem to be going very well. I must get to dinner now, or I will have nothing to eat. Since the house elves are adamant that they will not supply more than one meal to me in my office, I have to go eat with the rest of the school for breakfast and dinner. Silly little creatures really, although they claim they are looking out for my well being.

Until later,

S.S.

Diary,

Well, I have run out of excuses to start my record of my life. I find it somewhat difficult to speak of these things, even if it is only on paper. Ah well, best get on with it.

I was born in a small village near Little Winging, in Surry. As a child, I spent time with my parents, and my older sister, Aurora. Aurora died when I was five, and she ten. I was heart broken, as were my parents. My mother never fully recovered from the loss of her daughter.

My father however didn't remain grief-stricken for long. He became more and more angry, blaming the world for my sister's death, and taking it out on my mother. They fought so much in the following months; it was almost more than I could stand. I would hide in my room with my pillow over my head, and try not to hear the screams.

But that was just the start. Several months later the fights had escalated into violence. My father beat my mother. He hit her, then lifted her off the floor and threw her into the wall again and again; all because she wouldn't admit that she had been at fault for the death of my sister. It got worse and worse, and one night I couldn't stand it anymore. I was about seven years old at the time, and I thought that maybe I could help my father, by showing him that I was still here, even if my sister was dead.

My father had been to see a mediwizard, one who specialized in psychology, who had prescribed him some potions, and they seemed to be helping. He still fought with my mother, he was still horrible to me, but there had been no violence, and even the insults had been milder, and less frequent. A whole week went by with no screams of pain, no dull thudding in the living room. However, the mediwizard had warned that if my father missed even one dose, it could be disastrous, undoing all the good the potions had done, and allowing him to return to his original, violent, state. Little did I know that he had refused to take the potions that morning. My mother had thought that it couldn't hurt too much to let him miss just one, so she had let it go. I was lying in my bedroom, reading, when I heard the shouts start down stairs. I thought that maybe in his new state of mind, the thought that his son was still alive, still there to make him proud might stop him from fighting with her for just one night. How wrong I was. He stared at me like I was barking mad when I told him not to shout, that it was alright. For a moment, it was like he could see me, see his son. Then suddenly, his eyes grew hard, his expression closed. "Get out of my sight," he said, his voice emotionless, hard, cold, "I don't want to see you." With that, he turned back to my mother, raising his hand as if to strike her.

I had never actually witnessed this before. I had heard it almost every night for more than a year, but never seen my mother cower down into a corner of the room, and wait to be beaten, never seen the expression of fear, sadness, and resignation that contorted her features, with my own eyes.

Her face that bore such a resemblance to the face of my long lost sister all twisted up till it was almost unrecognizable, and it was in that moment that something inside me snapped. The part of me that had wanted nothing more than to hide in my room until it was all over, to avoid the pain, was broken, gone completely from my mind, leaving only the anger, built up over weeks, and months, and years.

"NO!" I had never spoken to my father like this, never. But I was unable to simply stand by and watch as I had for the last year. It was impossible. I threw myself between them, throwing my arms out wide, as though that would be enough to cover her, to keep him away from her, all the while staring up through my hair at my father's face.

I had been told many many times in the years before Aurora died that I had his eyes, and when he heard this he would look down at me, and those deep, dark eyes would smile at me.

But now, those eyes held only rage. He hit me then, his fist nearly breaking my nose. My mother tried to stop him, but it was no use, he was so much stronger than her.

In the end, a neighbor heard the noise, and, having been teetering on the decision for months now, finally owled the MLES. When the aurors arrived I was barely conscious, unable to see out of my left eye, my nose well and truly broken. I never saw my father again. I was spared the pain of testifying at his trial, and he was sentenced to ten years in Azkaban, with the provision that he never attempt to contact me or my mother ever again.

That is the end of that story for now, as it is well past midnight, and I really should sleep some tonight. In edition, soon after the incarceration of my father, my mother and I moved into Little Winging itself, and I met the girl who would change my life. But that is a story for tomorrow, as I have to grade the third year's essays before I can sleep tonight.

Good night for now,

S.S.


End file.
